


Wingman

by Kannika



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Conner is a Chaotic Brother, Crushes, Family Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26634679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kannika/pseuds/Kannika
Summary: “If anyone’s the worst, it’s Damian.” Conner says.“Yeah,” Jon agrees. “He is the worst.”A slight pause.“Do you want me to throw him in the bay?”
Relationships: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne (hinted), Kon-El | Conner Kent & Jonathan Samuel Kent
Comments: 14
Kudos: 107





	Wingman

**Author's Note:**

> More Superfam! 
> 
> They're totally brothers in my headcanon. And Conner is a good brother, but he's also got some Luthor in him. That has so many possibilities.

“You’re in a bad mood,” Conner says, and he sounds almost surprised. 

It is true that Jon doesn’t really get in bad moods very often, but it being pointed out doesn’t really help. He sinks down further into the couch cushions and the blankets. He and Damian got in another fight. That happens a lot, sure, but this one was a doozy. Usually he doesn’t care when Damian refuses to apologize, but this time when he had stormed off, attempted to get Jon to be the one to follow him and brush it off, something stuck in his throat. He flew in the opposite direction trying not to cry. 

Damian hasn’t called him since then. It was his fault, but he won’t apologize, and it makes Jon’s chest hurt. 

“Where’s Dad?” He asks hesitantly, because it occurs to him he’s not here. He may or may not have snapped at his dad, too, which is another thorn in his side. 

“He went to help someone rescue a cat or something,” Conner says, leaning toward him over the back of the couch.

“More like he ran away,” Jon mutters. 

“A little bit, yeah. I didn’t know you could do that.”

He didn’t either. He falls over sideways on the couch, feeling tears prick his eyes. “I’m the worst.”

He can actually hear Conner’s heartbeat pick up a bit behind him; it makes him pause. He and Conner talk, he’s his brother, but he’s not usually around when Jon needs something. He leaves that to Kara— in space— or his mom— on a job in Metropolis— or his dad— busy. They don’t have practice being nice to each other like this. Conner is his cool brother who taught him how to surf and helped him learn how to fly, but they’ve never seen each other cry. This is new. 

But Conner takes a deep breath and floats over the side of the couch to land beside him. “If anyone’s the worst, it’s Damian.”

“Yeah,” Jon agrees. “He is the worst.”

A slight pause. 

“Do you want me to throw him in the bay?”

It’s odd enough that Jon halfway sits up to look at Conner. He has his phone out, and he gives Jon a sideways smile. 

“What?”

“I’m texting Tim,” Conner says, still matter-of-fact. “He says Damian is out on patrol. I can go dump him in the bay for you.”

Jon snorts. The idea of Damian crawling out of the bay scowling, like a cat that accidentally gets left out in the rain, does make him feel better. But it won’t make him apologize. “You don’t need to do that,” he says, but he’s slightly smiling now. 

“Too late.”

He barely blinks and Conner’s place on the couch is empty, the window open, and Jon laughs in spite of himself. He sits up on the couch, trying to see if he can hear— yep. There’s Damian’s voice, yelling _“Clone!”_ at the top of his lungs as he sputters. 

Jon’s laughing by the time Conner comes back in. He looks pleased with himself, and in spite of Damian’s yelled threats, he’s not sporting any Kryptonite katanas sticking out of him. Yet. 

“Tim took video,” he says, sitting back down on the couch. “When you want to see it.”

Jon’s heart still hurts, but this time it’s a good hurt— it’s too full. He curls sideways so he’s laying on Conner’s side, who still feels a little too tense to be relaxed but pats his shoulder anyways. 

“Any better?”

“A little.”

“I can also shave his head.”

“Don’t do that. I like his hair.”

“Ew.” Conner nudges him. “So. What else can I do?”

“You can apologize to Dad for me.”

“Nope. I’ll terrorize Damian, but you’re on your own with that one.”

Fair enough. It was a long shot anyways, but it still sours his mood slightly. 

“You’re my brother,” Jon says, slightly pouty. “It’s your job to help me.”

Conner laughs. He has a strange laugh, Jon’s always thought. Even when he doesn’t mean it to be, it comes out a little harsher than normal. Like a tiny sliver of him that came from Luthor and not from his dad.

He opens his eyes and glances down at him, though, and his eyes are all his dad’s and his. Bright sky blue, even if it’s not their sky, not exactly. “Have you not been paying attention? My job as your brother—"

He suddenly scoops him up and shoots out into the garden, fast enough Jon gives a startled yelp that just makes him laugh harder.

“—Is to keep you guessing,” Conner finishes smugly, all but dropping him ungracefully onto the ground. 

Jon scowls and tries to consider whether he can pick Conner up and do the same thing to him. He’s strong enough, but not fast enough to escape the payback that would follow. Eventually. He’ll remember. “Will you do the dishes so Dad’s in a good mood when I apologize to him?” He tries. 

“Kiddo, I’ll help you with two things: bad guys, and girls. Clark is _not_ on the list.”

Jon glowers, but doesn’t snap back at him. How Conner had mentioned he would help him with girls is interesting. He’s never mentioned that before, but he says it like it’s obvious. And what started this in the first place is Damian, so…

“What about boys?” Jon asks cautiously. 

Conner looks like Christmas came early. 

“Spill,” he says eagerly, leaning against the porch and settling in for a long story, and Jon is very, very grateful to have him for a brother.


End file.
